My Mad House
by Purely Fictional
Summary: A compilation of my wacky and wonderful one shots. Varying from humourous to angsty to just plain nonsensical. Enjoy.
1. Harry and Sirius' Trip to the Mad House

Harry and Sirius' Trip to the Mad House

No crumple-horned snorkacks were harmed in the making of this story.

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><p>"Hey, Sonny Boy, what are we doing here?" Sirius asked his godson. The two stepped in sync through the glass window of St Mungos whilst avidly avoiding the blatant and wary stares of the public.<p>

"I'd have thought that was obvious, Snuffles." He put extra emphasis on the name 'Snuffles', as if mocking the older man. His friend chose to ignore this insult and carried on as if nothing had happened.

"Enlighten me." They had reached the lift with a map next to it indicating where each ward could be found. Pressing the button for the fifth floor, the two waited patiently for the doors to ping open.

"We're here to see a mind healer; Hermione suggested it a few weeks ago."

Sirius grinned. "I'm so proud of you, finally admitting you need help. That's the first step to recovery Harry."

"No, you great pile of hippogriff dung, we're here for you. We both know that I'm beyond help but I thought you might like to be declared officially insane." The two men had, in recent months, become close friends and it was not unusual to find them bantering in this manner. After the little debacle at the graveyard, Sirius had been declared innocent and, as compensation, the ministry had given him custody of Harry. This had only served to strengthen their already strong bond. They were far too alike for comfort sometimes.

"Ah, how thoughtful of you. Will I get a certificate to show Moony? Perhaps I could hang it on my wall, next to my collection of indecently-attired witches."

"You could ask them for a certificate, I'm sure. Now come on, we're going to be late." The teen pulled along his godfather until they reached a door at the end of the hall. Knocking, they were bade to enter and the door opened to reveal a waiting room.

After a moment of arguing about where to sit, by the window with a view of a brick wall or by the radiator because, "it really is quite cold, don't you know." They eventually decided on seats between the two, although Sirius still didn't understand why anyone would want to look at the view of a brick wall.

A man sat next to Sirius was leaning over a coffee table with two piles of pictures next to him. He would reach for a photo on his right, scrawl his name in childish script and then place it on a growing pile on his other side.

"Hello, would you like an autograph too?" he cheerfully asked when he noticed Sirius' oogling.

"Erm..."

"Really, I must insist. It's not every day you get to meet the five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile now, is it?"

"Oh, you're Martin McCall, sorry. I didn't recognise you."

"No."

"Sorry, what?"

"No. I'm not this McCall person you're on about. I'm Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary member of The Dark Force Defence League and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award. Don't you know anything?" He seemed quite put out.

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

They continued in this manner for nearly two minutes, to the exasperation of Harry.

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"If you really are Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary member of The Dark Force Defence League and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award, prove it!"

"Well, see here. This photo is obviously me and it has my name on it. See, Gilderoy Lockhart." He enthusiastically waved one of the signed photographs in Sirius' face.

"No, you just wrote that on yourself. Even if that is your name, it doesn't prove you have an Order of Merlin, Third Class or that you're an Honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League _or_ that you won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award five times. It just proves that you're an idiot who needs to sign his own pictures so he doesn't forget his name."

"It is me!" he stamped his feet in frustration, earning him a glare from the receptionist and half of the patients in the room.

"Well it doesn't matter if that's you or not, I don't want a photo of you if you're going to be such a ponce about it. I'm famous and I don't hand out signed pictures of myself, I just give the pretty ones my floo address." he said this with a smirk and a distant look on his face as he allowed his memories of the previous night to distract him.

"You're not famous, you can't be."

"Yes I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I─"

"Will you two just shut up. Some of us are trying to get some peace around here." There was a momentary silence.

"No you're not." Lockhart hissed.

"I am. I'm Sirius Orion Black, Order of Merlin, Second Class, Azkaban Escapee extraordinaire, Godfather to The-Boy-Who-Lived and soon to be declared insane." he was quite proud of his growing résumé.

"No you're not."

"I am, see. That there is Harry Potter."

"He's not Harry Potter. I taught Harry everything he knows, probably saving his life countless of times, and that's not him. I'd know him anywhere."

"He is him, look, there's the scar."

"Oh yes, so he is."

"…"

"Well, would you like an autograph?"

"No."

"Oh, alrighty-then. I'll just be off." With those words, the deranged blond leapt over the cushy seats to the door that had been left ajar by a man wearing tea cosies on his ears.

"So long suckers," he called as two medi-witches ran after him, shouting for passers-by to stop him.

"Well he seems like a nice bloke. A little bit off but aren't we all?"

Harry just shook his head at his quasi-father's antics and went back to reading his copy of _the Quibbler_.


	2. Fight Club

Fight Club

Batteries not included.

* * *

><p>"...so can I? Please, I've wanted to for ages, ever since I found out it was real. Please, Harry, it's my biggest dream." Colin Creevy's overexcited voice showed all the signs of puberty as he begged into his idol's ear.<p>

"Sorry Colin, what were you saying?" Harry, who'd long since learnt how to tune out the irritating voice, bit into another gravy-coated sausage as he listened to his housemate's request.

Looking around for wondering ears, the overeager boy leant in to speak whisper for a blessed moment. "Can I join _Fight Club_? Please, I've wa-"

"Woah, easy there Colin. You should know by now, you always have to remember the first and second rules. Otherwise you can forget it right away, I won't have anybody who can't follow the rules." The younger boy nodded his head in a strange likeness to the nodding dolls that can be found on the dashboards of truck drivers the world over.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry Harry, it won't happen again, I promise." Harry looked up from his meal for a moment to consider the unexpected request. He absentmindedly picked at a scab forming above his eyebrow whilst frowning in the direction of Hannah Abbot; that girl had a mean right hook.

"What've you done this time, Creevy?" Ron, Harry's closest friend, dropped onto the bench opposite the black-eyed boy.

"I..I'm not allowed to say." Colin seemed hesitant to admit this, as if even announcing its existence would reveal the quasi-secret.

"S'all right Colin, Ron already knows," Harry reassured and then speaking to his friend said, "the first rule, Mate."

"Ahh, be careful Creevy. You never know whose ears may be listening in," Ron said, trying and failing to sound wise and earning a snort from Harry.

"Listening in on what? What have you boys done now?" Hermione, Harry's second best friend, screeched in Ron's ear, almost deafening him. She sat next to the red-headed boy and began piling peas onto her plate, still waiting for a response. Ginny, Ron's sister and Harry's steady girlfriend, sat down on Harry's side that wasn't taken by Colin and pecked him on the cheek.

"Hiya Harry," she said whilst building a tower of mashed potato on her own plate. "What have I missed?"

"Nothing important, just Ron being an idiot." Contrary to his words, Harry subtly indicated his bruised rib that Ginny had gifted him with just hours before. Grinning, the red-haired beauty flashed a missing tooth that was slowly being regrown thanks to a handy dose of magic. Ginny was infamous for playing rough; having six older brothers had certainly built up her pain tolerance.

"So can I Harry, please?" Colin turned Harry's attention back on him.

"Well, I don't know, Colin, can you keep a secret?" he asked with a straight face. "The last thing we want is for this to get out."

"I know Harry, I'm great at keeping secrets. You can count on me." He swept a lock of his blond hair out of his eyes and Harry smirked as it just fell again when he eagerly nodded his head.

"Well, alright then. Do you know all of the rules?"

"Rules? I thought there were only the two rules." His weak voice sounded even more timid than usual at the thought of more rules to remember.

"Rule one, of course, is that you do not talk about Fight Club." Colin nodded his acceptance.

Taking a role of parchment out of his pocket, Harry began to read from the second line. "Rule two is tha-"

"Wait! Do I need to take notes?" He worried his lip at the thought of forgetting was appeared to be a growing list.

"Only if you're a dimwit." Anxiously, Colin stopped reaching for a quill. He didn't want the great Harry Potter to think he was stupid and he could always ask Ron later if he did forget. Carrying on, Harry said, "Rule two is that you DO NOT talk about Fight Club. Rule three; if anyone shouts 'stop', goes limp or taps out then the fight is over."

"Rule four," Ginny interrupted, "only two people to a fight." She glared in the direction of the rather bruised Patil twins who gulped guiltily and looked away.

"Fifth rule, only one fight at a time. That's how Bulstrode got her nose broken." They all looked in the direction of the Slytherin table where Millicent Bulstrode was noticeably absent.

"Sixth rule," began Ron who'd managed to distract Hermione with a special edition copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. "No shirts and no shoes."

"The seventh rule is that fights will go on for AS LONG as they have to. The eighth rule:" Harry eyed Colin warily. "if it's your first day you HAVE to fight."

"Okay, that's only eight, I can remember eight." If Harry didn't know better he would have sworn Colin was secretly related to Neville.

"Deviation from these rules is strictly prohibited. Trust me, Colin, you wouldn't like the consequences." Again, they all turned to stare at the Patil twins who were only picking at their feeble attempts at dinner.

"Any questions?" Harry's eyes watched Colin impatiently, telling the poor boy exactly what would happen if he disturbed him from any more of his delicious sausage and mash.

"N..no Sir, I understand just fine."

"Good, keep it that way. Remember, Colin, whoever you are in FC is a completely different person in the real world. This club only exists between the time when it starts and the time when it ends. At FC, you can be a God but, when the bell rings, you go back to your insignificant life of being Colin Creevy and forget that FC is anything more than your vivid imagination."

"I know, I've seen the film, Sir." Colin nodded and stood to leave, having finished eating before he approached his hero.

"And Colin," the boy turned to face Harry. "Call me Tyler from now on."

"Sure thing, Har-Tyler. Anything you want."


	3. Lost Marbles

Lost Marbles

Don't you know: madness is contagious.

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><p>It was an entirely average and uneventful day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was the end of the school year; exams were over, lessons had been completed and Harry Potter had, once again, saved the day through daring, nerve and chivalry. There was nothing for the students to do except lounge around by the lake and hold picnics. If one were to look out of an East-facing window, all that one would see was a number of students milling about; girls gossiping and boys daring each other to perform more and more outrageous tasks to attract the attention of the Giant Squid that lived in the depths of the Black lake.<p>

Nobody took the time to notice that the young Potter lad wasn't amongst his usual gaggle of friends. Whilst Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville and Ginny sunbathed and shared a scrumptious picnic just beyond the reach of the Whomping Willow, Harry was roaming about the castle, performing one, last, vital task before the train ride home in two days' time. Humming a tune to himself that had been playing on the wireless the night before, the young wizard went about the castle with a pile of nails in one hand, a hammer in the other and a precarious tower of parchment trailing behind him. Every hundred yards or so, he'd methodically stop, hammer a nail into the soft stone at eye level and then hang one of the sheets of parchment to the nail before jauntily moving on.

He was in his own world, oblivious to the gorgeous weather and circle of friends outside, caring little for anything except his self-appointed task and the annoyingly familiar ditty in his head. He didn't even bother to keep an eye out for Professor Snape or Caretaker Filch, something that had become instinctual after so many years of mischief. it probably didn't even matter if he was caught by the least-popular professor; the greasy bat of the dungeons and the Potter family's greatest nemesis was just as disillusioned about the Headmaster as Harry was and would probably approve of the signs that the boy was hanging for every student to see.

The notices, written by Harry two nights ago and then diligently copied a thousand times over by an overeager Dobby, were a declaration of loss. They read;

_Lost: Marbles. An assortment of marbles in a variation of colours and sizes. Imbued with an impotency potion. Large, sentimental value. If found, please contact Albus Dumbledore for a reward of ten galleons._

Later, as the students migrated from the warm weather in search of dinner, Hermione Granger shook her head and palmed her face in resigned frustration. She should have paid more attention to her wayward friend when he was distracted for so long without due cause.


	4. Ode to Potter

Ode to Potter

Warning: may contains nuts.

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><p>Mummy's dead and Daddy too,<br>The python escaped from London zoo.  
>Gringotts bank is full of gold,<br>Professor Binns is mighty old.

McGonagall's turning into a cat,  
>Hooch is flying this way and that.<br>Hermione's in the library, reading some books,  
>Snape's long nose is shaped like a hook.<p>

I'm getting into some gruesome fights,  
>Discipline's sinking to lowly heights.<br>Malfoy's daddy don't know what to do,  
>The sissy cries when I shout boo!<p>

Peeve's pranks are a good laugh,  
>Sirius was given time and a half.<br>Voldemort's killing all of my friends,  
>But that's alright 'cos it's all pretend.<p>

The Order's trying to win the war,  
>But I don't even know what we're fighting for.<br>Voldemort is crazy and wants to kill,  
>If we don't fight him then who will?<p>

I'm travelling around the countryside,  
>The sexual tension is implied.<br>Gotta find them all to win the fight,  
>Hermione's become much less uptight.<p> 


	5. Enter, Stranger

Enter, Stranger

Please do not feed the dementors.

* * *

><p>Enter, stranger, but take heed,<br>Of what awaits the sin of greed.  
>For those who take, but do not earn,<br>Must pay most dearly in their turn.

If you seek, beneath our floors,  
>A treasure that was never yours.<br>Thief, you have been warned, beware,  
>Of finding more than treasure there.<p>

If harm is meant to me or mine,  
>The same shall be dealt, in due time.<br>If your intent is good and pure,  
>Your return will be safe and sure.<p>

Those who save shall prosper well,  
>Gold and fortune, the prophet will tell.<br>Success is earnt but well-rewarded,  
>Piles of gold are keenly hoarded.<p> 


	6. Professor Potter and the Picnic Predicam

Professor Potter and the Picnic Predicament

This message represents the official view of the voices in my head and must not be construed as anything but fact.

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><p>It was a bright and welcoming morning in early September that found a group of thirteen curious seventeen year olds standing outside the closed door of their defence classroom. It was unheard of to find an empty classroom with a closed door in Hogwarts; it was common practice for the doors to be left open for students to arrive and settle into their lesson before the hour began, thus allowing both students and professors to use the short hour to the maximum advantage. That the door was closed meant that the room was already in use, even though it was the first lesson of the day and the seventh years were timetabled into that defence slot.<p>

Much more likely, however, was that something unusual was going to occur. Naturally, the thirteen seventeen year olds found a lot to speculate. The main fuel behind the speculation, other than the closed door, was the identity of their new defence professor, who, incidentally, was running three minutes late. Professor Harry Potter, Slayer of Dark Lords, Grand Sorcerer and Winner of Witch Weekly's Best Smile for Three Years Running, already had a reputation a mile long, not the least for being both eccentric and late. He would, without a doubt, be the weirdest teacher that these students, and all of Hogwarts, would ever have.

Eventually, running eight minutes late and smelling suspiciously of stale sex, the young teacher finally arrived. He seemed entirely too cheerful to the students for a Monday morning and the first day back at school. In his hand, he was swinging a wicker basket forwards and backwards as he strolled, whistling, down the hallway. "Gooooood morning," he sang, "I'm Professor Harry Potter, your new defence teacher. Yes, I'm _that_ Harry Potter; honestly, I don't recall any other Potter, let alone one called Harry. I'll be teaching you for the next year. There is a curse on this position, as I'm sure you're all aware, but I believe that the Headmistress hired me for the sole reason that if anybody could break the bloody curse, it would be me. She certainly didn't hire me for my social skills or enthusiasm for children.

"The Headmistress has kindly, in her infinite wisdom, allowed me free reign over you miserable lot on the condition that you all graduate with all of the limbs you started with, only minor psychological damage and knowing your wands from your _wands_." Having finished his monologue and smirking sardonically, Professor Potter ordered the sleepy students to follow him and meandered off in the direction of the central staircase.

It was only as they reached the grassy path that led down to the forest that one of the students, a stocky lad named Pitts, was egged on enough to build up the courage to ask the question on everybody's minds. "Erm, Professor?" he squeaked. "Where are we going?" Abruptly, the professor froze in his tracks, causing a number of students to stumble and jump in order to avoid falling into their esteemed professor.

"Mr Pitts, thank you for asking such a pivotal question; 50 points to Hufflepuff for ensuring that you're informed about the situation before wondering into an unknown and definitely dangerous forest. Now, 5 points will be removed for being so slow to ask, 10 points from every other student too cowardly or stupid to ask the same question and 10 points from everyone who stumbled when I stopped. Remember, Students, 'always be prepared,' isn't just advice for condoms. To answer your question, Pitts, we're heading to the forest."

"I see that, Sir, but _why_?"

"Why? _Why_? What's in the forest, Mr Pitts?"

"I don't know, Sir: centaurs, unicorns, pixies, abraxian, wolves, thestrals and the like, I imagine." He scratched his head dumbly, wondering where his new professor's trail of thoughts was leading.

"Are they not members of this green earth, Mr Pitts?"

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"Does it not follow that we must know everything that we can about our follow animals, so that we are prepared and don't accidentally offend a centaur in a way akin to telling him that his mother was a crack whore?" Pitts, and the other students, shuffled their feet nervously. "You have a lot to learn before I'm through with you rotten lot, I'd wager. Conversely, Pitts is a rather unfortunate name. I once know a man named Peter Files which is even more unfortunate, of course, but I rather do believe that..." They continued into the forest in this fashion, Harry and the students chattering on about nothing in particular as they wondered along the well-forged path created by Hagrid and the boys who pushed each other to retrieve various tokens as evidence of their daring and nerve.

Eventually, they arrived in what appeared to be a clearing and Harry happily pulled a checked red-and-white blanket from the basket that he was carrying. "Now now, settle on the blanket, the lot of you, and pass around these sandwiches, courtesy of the house elves. There's a choice of either ham or nettle. I'm a great believe in the philosophy that there's no need to ever be uncomfortable if the situation doesn't call for it." He handed around two plates full of triangle-shaped slices of bread.

"Would anybody like to tell me an example of a situation that may call for a little discomfort?" The thirteen students immediately started calling out answers.

"When you're on a stakeout, Sir?" Malcolm timidly asked.

"That's one, yes," Harry encouraged.

"Torture, Sir," a boy offered.

"Yes, yes, torture's uncomfortable too, I suppose. I was thinking more along the lines of dinner with the in-laws though. That's an uncomfortable experience if ever there was one but don't let my Ginny catch wind of me saying that," he winked at the smattering of chuckles.

The next hour continued in that same fashion, with the professor and students picnicking in a forest surrounded by animals, most of whom were content to allow the company of fourteen to pass easily through their home, except for a minor incident between an acromantula and Melody Curt's plait which all involved agreed never to speak of.

It was the most interesting, although non-academic, lesson that any student could remember and Harry would go down in history as not only the Slayer of Dark Lords, Grand Sorcerer and Winner of Witch Weekly's Best Smile for Three Years Running, but also as the most unconventional teacher that Hogwarts had ever seen and the breaker of the curse that had seen over fifty nine teachers pass through the same position in as many years. Harry remained the defence teacher for twenty three years before deciding that the role of caretaker was much more suited to him.


End file.
